Williams didn't make it to the Biennial previews—not in protest or to avoid protest, but because his show at Cal State Northridge College HAD opened Saturday night. Controversy wouldn't have been an issue—at the Whitney he showed six watercolors, small, lighthearted landscapes with anecdotal, humorously political suggestions. In his New York Times review, Holland Cotter noted the works' "intimacy." Which goes to show the true versatility for a man primarily described (and thus written off to a high-art audience) as a "comic book artist."

"I was advised to stay away from the big, lurid paintings, and show a certain humility with the watercolors," explains Wiliams, in what he sees as a demonstration of leadership earned by sustained hardship: "Alex, I'm always kicked out of things. I'm an older man, I'm almost 67—I think I'm the second oldest person in the whole show. Getting into this thing had a great deal of meaning to me. So I was just very quiet and timid about the work, and Tony [Shafrazi] suggested I use some of the more relaxed work."

For Williams, institutional endorsement seems to represent abstract approval, rather than a new or activated place in a specific community. He says he looked at the Whitney's catalogue and recognized only a few of his peers, and couldn't cite any of the 55 artists in the show as colleagues. However, he says he sympathizes with the "Dada origins" of the conceptual, installation, and photomontage work in this show.

And, then maybe Williams works best from inside. While goauche might be a medium best known for its superficial, surface qualities, the artist envisions a less reputable audience: "Watercolors are for Queen Victoria, Winston Churchill, and Adolf Hitler."


SEE ALL OF INTERVIEW'S COVERAGE OF THE 2010 BIENNIAL.